“Jest last night right on the edge of the woods out thar.”
“Did anyone else see it?”
“Only old Ike, and I bribed him to kape it to hisself. Of course I spect it’s a trick of Big Ben to scare our men away. He knows how super—super, hang it all, what’s thot word?”
“You mean superstitious,” Bob supplied.
“Thot’s it, and if the men git a notion this camp’s haunted, it’s likely they’ll all up and git.”
“But why should Big Ben want to scare off our men?” Jack asked. “Hasn’t he got enough of his own?”
“’Tis not thot at all at all, but he bid against yer father on thot contract an’ lost out so I spect he wants him ter lose it. Sure an’ ’tis jest like him.”
“What time was it when this ghost made its appearance?” Bob asked.
“Sure an’ ’twas jest after supper, but, thank goodness, only me and Ike had come out of the mess house. I made a dash fer it, but the blamed thing jest up and vanished afore I got half way to it.”
“What did it look like?”
“Sure an’ it looked ter be about eight fate tall an’ was all white an’ fire streaming from its two eyes. It sure was a sight all right all right, so it was.”
“But it didn’t come tonight did it?” Jack asked.
“Not yet, an’ I been kaping me eyes on the winder thar. Yer can see the place where it was from here. We’ll kape an eye open an’ watch fer a bit and mebby we’ll see it.”
But, although they watched until after nine o’clock, the ghost did not put in an appearance.
“Sure an’ it’s of no use to watch iny longer,” Tom said, as he knocked the ashes from his pipe. “Unless it’s a rale ghost he knows as how all the byes are in bed by this time.”
Neither of the boys slept much that night. It was not worry that kept them awake, however. It was a far more tangible cause. In short it was snoring on the part of many of the crew. The snoring varied in tone, as Jack declared the next morning, “all the way from low A to high C.” But as they had had the same experience a number of times before, they knew that they would soon get used to it.
Jean Larue had not been at supper the night of the fight, but he was on hand for breakfast the next morning, apparently none the worse for his beating. He had, however, a decidedly downcast look, as though he realized, as no doubt he did, that the day of his authority over his mates was past.
“If looks could kill, you’d be a dead man,” Jack whispered to Bob as they took their seats at the long table. “That Larue is certainly looking daggers at you.”
“Just so he doesn’t do anything except look I should worry,” Bob grinned, as he helped himself to a couple of shredded wheat biscuits.
The camp was situated about a hundred rods from the lake and, at the time, they were felling the spruce some two hundred rods north of the camp. It was a sight which they never tired of, watching to see the mighty monarchs of the woods yield little by little at first to the axe and saw, and then, with a terrific crash, fall to earth. Then would come the trimming off of the branches and sawing into the proper length, after which the logs would be rolled onto the low but exceedingly strong sleds and drawn by a span of horses to the lake. There they were piled on the shore as closely as possible to the water and were ready to be towed across the lake by steamers to the Kennebec River as soon as the ice broke up in the spring. Formerly axes were used exclusively in felling the trees, but lately large cross cut saws have to a large extent superseded them. At the Golden camp the men were allowed to use either as they desired.
As Jean Larue was passing the office that morning on his way to the cuttings, Tom Bean called him in, and after he had closed the door, said not unkindly:
“Jean, that boy licked you last night in a fair fight as ye well know, and mind now, I don’t want to be after hearing of him gettin’ hurted by accident, so to speak, cause if I do it’s meself thot’ll make ye prove yer innocence. Mind now.”
Jean stood in sulky silence while the boss was speaking, and as he finished turned on his heel and left the room.
“Sure an’ it’s him thot’s the ugly brute,” the foreman muttered, shaking his head.
The boys spent the day with the men getting acquainted, and by night they were calling a good part of them by their first names and they were Bob and Jack to them all. It had not been an idle day for them by any means, as they had worked nearly as hard as any of the men, although they had not exerted themselves for fear of lamed muscles.
“We’ve just got to lay that ghost if he shows up again,” Bob declared, as they were trudging back in the rapidly falling dusk. “He’s apt to stampede the whole works if the men once get a look at him. Of course it’s a put up job of Big Ben’s but we’ve got to catch him with the goods in order to prove anything.”
That night Tom Bean and the two boys again watched the window of the office but when nine o’clock came no ghost had appeared.
“I guess either he’s a periodic ghost and we haven’t got on to his periods or else he got discouraged after his first appearance,” Bob declared as he stifled a yawn.
“I don’t think a ten-inch gun would keep me awake tonight let alone a few snores,” Jack declared as they were walking slowly back to the bunk house.
Jack’s guess went for both of them, for they fell asleep almost as soon as they struck their beds and neither woke until the cook blew the rising horn at six o’clock.
After breakfast was over and most of the men had left the mess room, Tom motioned to the boys to follow him to the office.
“I’m goin’ ter take a look through thot tract and I thought mebby ye’d keer to go along,” he said, as soon as he had closed the door.
“We sure would,” both boys eagerly accepted the invitation.
“All right thin: we’ll wait a bit till the men have gone to their work. I don’t want them to know thot there’s inything in the air. Nothin’ hinders the work so much as to have them fellers git an idea into their heads thot something’s goin’ ter happen.”
It was nearly eight o’clock before Tom announced that it was time to start. It was a bitter cold morning. “Twenty-eight below,” Jack declared as he looked at the thermometer hanging just outside the office door.
“Jest wait till it gits down to forty an thin ye kin say as how it’s cold round the edges,” and the boys laughed as Tom stood before them fanning himself vigorously with his cap.
“It’s a wonder you don’t take off your mackinaw and go in your shirt sleeves, Tom,” Jack laughed as he stooped to fasten the thongs of his snow-shoes.
The dry snow creaked as they started off. The snow in the woods was about two feet deep and as it was light their snow-shoes sank several inches making what Tom called, “heavy goin’.”
“It was right here thot I saw thot critter the ither night,” he announced as he paused on the edge of the clearing.
“Did you look for tracks?” Bob asked.
“Sure an’ thot would have bin of no use. Yer see there’s a spring about a hundred fate in the woods an the byes go thar fer water so the snow was all tracked up here,” Tom explained as they started on again.
Two or three inches of light snow had fallen during the early part of the night so that no tracks were visible as they pushed their way through the dense forest.
“Thot tract starts right here,” Tom announced a few minutes later as he stepped and pointed to a big spruce, in the trunk of which a deep gash had been cut. “Thot cut marks the northwest boundry. ‘Ain’t it a crame of a patch?’”
The boys readily agreed with him as they gazed in rapt admiration at the mighty spruces which, growing closely together, reached up, straight as an arrow, to a lofty height.
“It’s the finest bit of spruce I iver saw an thot’s sayin’ sumpin’. An’ there’s four hundred acres of it jest like thot,” he added as he again led the way.
“How far from the tract is Ben’s camp?” Bob asked as they trudged along.
“Not morn fifty rods, but he’s cuttin’ on the ither side of his camp. He’s got some mighty good timber thar too, but it’s not like this,” Tom replied.
They made nearly a complete circuit of the four hundred acre tract but found no evidence of any cutting nor did they meet anyone. They got back to camp just in time for dinner, with, as Jack declared, “some appetite.” The afternoon was spent with the crew and when quitting time came they both were, as Bob declared, “dead tired.”
They had nearly finished supper, when, suddenly the door of the mess house burst open and a Frenchman by the name of Devaux, stumbled into the room. His face was bloodless and he was shaking so that he could hardly stand.
“Der devil, I see him!” he gasped hoarsely, as he leaned for support against one of the bunks.
Several of the men sprang to their feet and crowded around him, all of them asking him questions at the same time. Bob threw a quick glance at Tom and he answered with a slow shake of the head.
“Out der by der woods,” they heard the frightened man reply to the questions which were being hurled at him, and the men made a rush for the door.
Tom and the boys followed as quickly as possible, and as soon as they were outside, looked eagerly toward the place which Tom had pointed out to them that morning. But nothing unusual greeted their eyes. There was no ghost visible.
“That Devaux, he drink too much der hooch,” Bob heard one of the men say as they trooped back into the building.
They found Devaux somewhat recovered but the man was still trembling.
Tom went up to him and took hold of his arm. “Looky here, son, you been boozing.” It was an accusation and not a question, and the Frenchman immediately straightened up.
“That one beeg lie,” he said firmly.
That settled the matter in Tom’s mind in so far as the drinking was concerned. No man in the outfit would dare to call Tom Bean a liar unless he had a mighty good reason for it, and Tom was well aware of the fact.
“You smell breath, you no believe,” the man insisted.
“No, Devaux, yer word’s all I want. If ye say as how ye ain’t touched any hooch, sure an’ thot settles it, but,” and he drew him to one side so that no one should hear, “take me advice an’ kape it ter yerself about what yer thought yer sawed,” and as Devaux nodded his head in silent assent, he left the room, motioning for the boys to follow him.
“He saw it all right,” Tom declared, as soon as they were by themselves in the office. “But the byes won’t take much stock in it I gess, seeing as how Devaux is a kind of a joke with ’em, but, byes, we got ter git busy an’ put a stop ter thot thing or there’ll be the dickins ter pay.”
“Let’s go see if we can find any tracks,” Jack proposed.
“Sure an’ we’ll do thot same, but we’d best wait till after the men are aslape. ’Twon’t do ter let ’em know thot we’re taking iny stock in what the lad said.”
The boys were quick to see the wisdom of his statement and so they waited until ten o’clock, Jack deeply immersed in a book and the other two playing checkers, a game of which they were both very fond.
“I gess ’tis safe enough now,” Tom declared, as the clock on the wall struck the hour.
There was no moon, but the night was clear and the stars, aided by the whiteness of the snow, gave enough light for them to see some distance ahead as they made their way to the place where Tom had seen the “ghost” three nights before. Somewhat to their surprise they found the snow unbroken save for the tracks which they themselves had made that morning.
“’Tis mighty strange, so it is.” Tom Bean rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he stood facing the two boys. “Do yer spose there might be sich a thing after all?” he asked slowly.
“Tom, you surprise me,” Bob replied. “Of course there isn’t.”
“Well, I dunno, but will yez tell me how inything made of flesh an’ blood could git here an’ lave no tracks at all at all?”
“That’s what we’ve got to find out, and I have an idea. Come back to the office and I’ll tell you what it is.” And Bob started to lead the way back.
“It’s like this,” he began, as soon as they were once more seated in front of the hot stove. “I’m going to try and get a picture of that thing, whatever it is. You can’t photograph a ghost you know,” turning with a smile to Tom, “and if I can do it it’ll settle that part of it anyway.”
“I get you,” Jack spoke up. “And right now’s the time to fix it up. You see, the show’s over for the night and there’ll be no one hanging around, so let’s get busy.”
Among the other things which they had brought with them was a good camera and a supply of flashlight cartridges. The latter for taking pictures of animals at night. Tom seemed rather skeptical but offered no objection as they set about putting their plan into execution. It took them until nearly half past eleven o’clock before they had things arranged to their liking, but when that time came the camera was hidden in a nearby tree in such a way that, although not likely to be discovered, the lens had a good view of the space where the “ghost” was scheduled to appear. Wires hidden beneath the snow ran to the office and were so arranged that, when connection was made, the current from six dry cells would set off the flash powder and at the same time open the lens.
“There now, I’m going to watch here every night till something happens,” Bob declared, as he finished connecting up the cells.
It was nearly twelve o’clock when they turned in but in spite of the lateness of the hour it was long before Bob slept. He well knew how much depended on the success of his plan. If anything should happen to cause a stampede among the men it would mean the loss of the contract as it would be practically impossible to get others to take their places this late in the season. As he lay thinking the matter over, he suddenly raised himself on one elbow and listened.
Through the stillness of the night came a cry. At first Bob thought it was a wildcat, but, as it was repeated a moment later, he knew that he was mistaken. No animal with which he was acquainted ever made a sound like that. Beginning in a low note, which sounded like the rumble of distant thunder, it rose in pitch as it increased in volume until its shrillness seemed to reach almost to the breaking point, then it slowly died away in a wail indescribable in its weirdness.
“What in the name of goodness can it be,” he thought as he listened. Soon it came again and now it sounded nearer. A slight sound of the movement of bodies in the bunks told Bob that he was not the only one who was listening, and a shudder of fear permeated him. Not fear caused by the cry itself, but fear of the effect it would have on the men. None knew better than he the fickle nature of those men, brought up as they had been, on the lore of ghostly legends of the north country.
Six times the cry was repeated and each time it seemed nearer, and now he knew that a good part of the men were awake, although none of them had gotten out of his bunk, fearing probably that he would be called a coward by someone. There is nothing which these hardy woodsmen so hate as a taint of cowardice, and many a one has gone to his death rather than refuse a dare.
For a long time Bob lay in his bunk and listened, but after the sixth time the cry was not repeated, and finally the cessation of the sound of movements in the various bunks told him that most if not all of the men had fallen asleep again.
“Did you hear it?” Jack whispered to Bob, as they were dressing the next morning.
“Sure, but don’t say a word to anyone,” Bob cautioned. “We’ll talk it over with Tom later when we’re alone.”
No mention of the matter was made at breakfast table, but both boys were quick to sense an air of uneasiness among the men, and later, as he caught the eye of the foreman, the latter shook his head as much as to say that he feared the outcome. All that day Bob and Jack worked with the men, felling the great spruces, but although they tried hard to joke and laugh as usual with them, the Frenchmen, almost to a man, lacked that joyous spontaneity of spirit so characteristic of them when everything was to their liking.
They had had no opportunity for more than a word with Tom Bean, as he had left, immediately after breakfast, for Greenville. He was back, however, when they returned to camp, as dusk was beginning to fall; and, standing in the doorway of the office, he motioned for them to join him.
“Byes,” he began, as soon as he had closed the door, “how did the men act the day?”
“As though they were much worried,” Bob replied. “They didn’t talk about it even among themselves as far as I could see, but I know that some of them at least are scared, although they are trying hard not to show it. I reckon that howling last night on top of Devaux’s yarn has got their goat.”
“Sure an’ it’s meself thot’s afraid so,” and Tom rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Sumpin’s got ter be done and mighty sudd’n too or we’ll lose men thot’s sartin sure.”
At that moment a loud knock sounded on the door.
“Come in,” the foreman shouted.
The door opened and a giant by the name of Baptist Goulet, followed by two others, entered the office. It was at once apparent that the men were ill at ease as they stood just inside the doorway holding their caps in nervous fingers and keeping their eyes on the floor.
“Well, what is it, Baptist?” Tom asked, after he had waited for the man to speak.
Even then the spokesman, Baptist, hesitated. “We—we lak our time,” he stammered.
Tom Bean showed no surprise. It was what he had expected, though not quite so soon.
“Ye mane yer want to quit?” he asked.
“Oui, we queet,” the man said, and the others nodded assent.
“What’s wrong?” the foreman demanded. “Grub no good?”
“Grub, she ver’ bon.”
“Work too hard? Wages too small?”
Again the man shook his head.
“Work no hard, pay, she ver’ bon, but camp, she got haunt. Devaux, him see it. We hear eet las’ night. Stay here mebby all die ver’ queek.”
As the man finished speaking Tom burst out in violent laughter, though it was evident to the boys that he was forcing it.
“Sure an’ it’s three old wimin ye are, to be scared away from a good job by a bit of noise. Thar’s no haunt here at all an’ we’re goin’ ter prove it. Now listen ter me. I’m a goin’ ter make a spache tonight at suppertime, an’ if yer want yer time after thot come ter me an’ ye’ll git it.”
“It’s mighty plain thot idjet of a Devaux’s bin talking,” he said as soon as the men had left the office. “Sure an’ it’s a wonder ter me thot more of ’em didn’t come. I’ve got ter make the spache of me life tonight or thar’ll be doin’s afore morning, I’m thinkin’.”
The most of the men had finished their supper when Tom Bean rose from his seat at the head of the table and pounded on his plate with his knife. Instantly the talking stopped and he began:
“Men, thar’s bein’ some doin’s round the camp thot I know well is gettin’ under some o’ yer hides. I know that Devaux saw sumpin last night cause I saw it a few night ago, but it wasn’t no ghost. It’s jest somebody tryin’ ter scare ye away,” and he told them all about the contract which Mr. Golden had and how Big Ben Donahue was trying to prevent him from completing it.
“How you know dat no ghost, by gar?” Baptist asked from his seat near the farther end of the table.
The foreman laughed. “Did yez iver hear of inyone takin’ a picture of a ghost?” he asked, looking about the table.
Evidently no one had, and after a moment’s pause he continued:
“Well, thin, thot’s jest what these boys are a goin’ ter do. They’ve rigged up a picture machine an’ the nixt time thot ghost comes round it’ll git its picture took, an’ thot’ll prove thot it ain’t no ghost at all. Fer why? Because first thar ain’t no sech animal, an’ second because if there was he’d not show in a picture, cause he rally ain’t thar at all at all.”
As he finished it was evident that, although the men were not entirely convinced, they were at least somewhat easier in their minds.
“But we hear cry of haunt las’ nicht, by gar,” declared a little Frenchman who sat at Tom’s right. “What you tink of heem, heh?” and without waiting for an answer to the question, he went on. “I hear day cry many years ago way up north an’ een less’n week ten men die, oui, by gar, they all die, they didn’t go ver’ queek.”
“We’ll find out who’s makin’ thot noise all right,” he answered somewhat evasively; then as he saw that they did not seem to respond to his words, he added, “Jest ye lave thot to me an’ the byes here an’ if we don’t put a end to it the nixt time it starts, sure an’ ye kin all have yer time an’ welcome.”
“Begorra, an’ I had ter make it strong,” Tom told the boys as soon as they were back in the office. “An’ now it’s up ter us ter make good, but it’s meself thot dunno how it’s ter be did.”
“We’ll have to find some way, but just now I’m hoping that his ghostship will show up to night.” Bob had hardly spoken when Jack grabbed him by the arm.
“There it is! Look quick!” he whispered, pointing out of the window. “It’s no wonder that Devaux was scared to death.”
In the dim light of the stars a most grewsome apparition appeared to be executing some kind of a dance in the spot where Tom had first seen it. Not less than seven feet tall the body, which was but dimly visible, was surmounted by an immense head which stood out more distinctly than the rest of the object. It closely resembled a human skull, and the large cavities which served as eyes glowed with a bright phosphorescent light. Not for an instant was it still, and its long arms waved up and down as it danced, while every now and then it would leap several feet into the air.
“It’s a peach all right,” Bob declared, as he touched together two pieces of wire.
Instantly there was a blinding flash just back of the “ghost.”
“Come on now, make it snappy!” Bob shouted, as he sprang for the door.
Tom and Jack followed on his heels but, quick as they were, every vestige of the “ghost” had vanished by the time they were outside.
“Sure an’ what do yez know about thot?” Tom asked a moment later, as they searched in vain for tracks all about the place where the apparition had appeared.
“Well, I’ll bet we’ve got a good picture anyhow,” Bob said as he took the camera from its hiding place. “I’ll warrant his ghostship wasn’t quick enough to fool the lens.”
By this time most of the men were out in the clearing, having seen the flash. They were standing in groups talking excitedly but in low tones. Baptist met Bob as he carried the camera back to the office, where he had all arrangements made for quickly developing the plate.
“You no geet dat ghost, heh?” he asked.
“No, but you bet I’ve got his picture here,” Bob assured him. “You just wait ten minutes and I’ll show it to you,” and followed by Jack he rushed into the office while the foreman remained outside talking with some of the men.
“If we didn’t hit it it’s all over but the shouting,” Bob declared as he dipped the film into the hypo solution.
“I guess you’re right there, they’d never wait to give us another chance,” Jack agreed as he anxiously watched the film.
“Hurrah! We’ve got it all right,” he shouted a moment later, as Bob held the film up for inspection, “and it’s a dandy too.”
Without waiting for it to dry, they rushed out and in another moment were displaying the result of their effort to Tom and Baptist, who, at the moment, happened to be talking together.
“Oui, by gar, you geet heem all reichte,” the latter declared as he held up the film for others to see.
The picture went far in restoring the confidence of the crew, but Tom and the boys well knew that the remembrance of that weird cry in the night had by no means left their minds.
It was some two hours later when Tom and the boys were once more in the office discussing the situation. They had passed the interval with the men in the bunk house trying to get them in better spirits. Bob had taken out his guitar and led them in singing as he often did, but it was easy to see that the hearts of the men were not in the songs. There was still a strain and the very air of the room seemed laden with uncertainty. Earlier than usual the men began, one by one, to slip into their bunks and by eight-thirty only a half dozen were sitting about the stoves. Earlier in the evening Tom had made another short speech in which he told them that in case they heard the cry again they were not to be alarmed.
“Me an’ the byes are sure a goin’ ter find out what made it afore mornin’ and don’t yer fergit it,” he assured them.
He would have called for volunteers but he well knew that, although anyone of them would risk his life for a much less reason against any physical danger, it would be next to impossible to persuade them to go far from the bunk house that night.
“Now it’s up to us,” Bob declared, as he thrust a stick into the stove and drew up his chair.
“Ye’re right me lad,” Tom agreed, as he too sat down. “Sure an’ ye got a fine picture of the ghost but yer can’t take a picture of a yell so ye can’t, bad luck to it.”
For a few minutes there was silence, each being busy with his own thoughts. Then suddenly Bob stood up and, turning his back to Jack, said:
“Jack, will you kindly kick me good and hard where you think it will do the most good?”
“What’s the main idea?” Jack asked in a surprised tone.
“The main idea,” Bob replied, quickly turning around, “is that I’m all kinds of a doughhead. Here I’ve been racking my brains, or rather the place where they ought to be, for hours trying to figure out how the ghost got there without leaving any tracks, and it’s as plain as the nose on your face.”
“Hum—mighty complimentary to Tom and me. Suppose you elucidate, my dear Holmes,” and Jack looked at his brother as though daring him to do his worst.
“I can show you better than I can tell you,” Bob said, as he grabbed up his cap and took a flashlight from the desk. “Come on,” he called, as he threw open the door, and they lost no time in following him.
At either side of the place where the “ghost” had appeared was a large spruce tree. As they reached the spot Bob did not hesitate but, giving a leap, was quickly among the branches of the tree to the right.
“Come up here both of you,” he called a minute later, throwing the light from his flash down to them.
Quickly Tom and Jack joined him, about fifteen feet from the ground.
“Now do you see?” he asked, throwing the rays about him.
In many places twigs had been broken from the branches, evidence that someone had been there before them.
“And look at this,” Bob continued, pointing to a piece of string which had caught on a branch. “And here’s a piece of cloth which tore off when he pulled the ghost in,” he declared, picking a bit of white cheese cloth from where it had caught on a broken stub. “Do you know that fellow must have been hiding right here all the time we were hunting round down there.”
“Be jabbers, an’ yer right all right,” Tom declared, as he stared at the evidence.
“But how did he get away?” Jack asked, as though certain that he had him stuck at last.
“That wasn’t hard,” Bob replied. “He just waited here till we had all gone back and then he crept along that limb to the next tree. You can see that he could do it all right. Then he dropped into that thick clump of bushes there and made off. I’ll bet we’ll find his tracks there all right, you see if we don’t.”
Bob was right, for when they had climbed down and gone around to the other side of the bushes there were tracks a plenty.
“And to think that we never thought of looking here,” Jack groaned as he gazed at footprints.
“You see he had that thing on a string which was tied to that tree opposite and all he had to do to make it dance was to pull on the string a bit and a harder pull would make it bounce up higher in the air. Then all he had to do when he wanted it to disappear was to give a yank and break the string near the other tree and pull it in. Of course he had phosphorus smeared on the eyes,” he explained, as they made their way slowly back to the office.
“What time was it when that howling began last night,” Tom asked as he replenished the fire.
“Just eleven o’clock,” Bob replied. “I looked at my watch just before I heard it.”
“Thin it’s mor’n likely it’ll begin about the same time ternight.”
“I suppose so. What’s your plan, Tom?”
“Well now,” and Tom rubbed his chin reflectively. “’Tis not aisy ter tell the direction of a noise like that in the night, but I’m a thinkin’ it came from the south all right an’ it warn’t mor’n about a half a mile away when it started, so I don’t see iny other way but for us ter go out thar in the woods an’ jest wait an’ trust ter luck. It’s prutty cold an’ it ain’t a goin’ ter be no picnic, but I gess we’ll have ter be after doin’ it.”
“I guess you’re right,” Bob agreed as he pulled out the checker board and began to arrange the men.
They played until the clock told them that it was half-past ten and then Tom announced that it was time to start.
It was ten below and although the stars gave a faint light in the clearing, as soon as they were among the trees it was so dark that they could hardly see a dozen feet ahead. They did not of course dare to use their flashlights, for fear that the man would be scared off and they did not want to have to repeat the experience. There was no wind and no sound, save the slight creaking of the snow beneath their snow-shoes, to break the stillness of the night.
“Don’t you think we’ve gone about far enough?” Bob whispered. “It’s ten minutes to eleven.”
“I gess so, but we’ll have ter kape moving about ter kape from frazing,” Tom replied as he vigorously swung his arms about his body.
“Freezing is right,” repeated Jack, as he too began to swing his arms. “It’s cold enough to freeze the hair off a bald man’s head.”
“Sis-s-h,” Bob cautioned. “It’s so dark that fellow might be within a few feet of us without us seeing him, and if he hears us talking we’ll likely have this job to do all over again.”
For some minutes after that no one spoke. They kept moving about but did not separate more than a few feet from each other.
“It’s about time for the concert to begin,” Bob declared as he stepped close to Jack. “It’s five minutes past eleven.”
“I should think——” Jack began, but stopped suddenly as a low sighing sound as if the wind was rustling the leaves of the trees came to their ears.
“Listen, I guess it’s begun,” Bob declared as he turned his head slightly.
Rapidly the sound increased in volume and in pitch, and in spite of himself a shudder ran through his body.
“He’s a peach all right, whoever he is,” Jack whispered.
“Sure an’ he’s right over to the right of us an’ not mor’n three hundred fate away,” Tom declared as the cry ceased. “Follow me now and make it aisy,” he ordered as he swung off to the right, closely followed by the two boys.
They had gone but a few feet when the cry began again, and now it was considerable nearer.
“He’s a comin’ this way,” Tom whispered, as he stopped in his tracks. “Get behin’ thot big tree an’ we’ll wait fer him.”
“It doesn’t seem possible that a sound like that could come from human lips,” Bob whispered, as they waited. “I don’t wonder that the man thought it was the devil. There he goes again,” as for the third time the weird notes ran through the stillness of the night.
“And he’s getting pretty close too,” Jack whispered, as he tried to pierce the darkness with his eyes.
Probably five minutes elapsed before the cry came again, and they were beginning to fear that the man had given it up for the night. But suddenly it began again and now it was so near that they were certain only a few feet separated them. Bob was about to whisper to Tom, who was crouching directly in front of him, when the Irishman, without warning, let out a yell that so far as volume was concerned, at least rivaled the other’s cry. At the instant he sprang forward and before the boys could recover from their surprise he was swallowed up by the darkness.
Tom Bean’s eyes, more used to the darkness than those of the boys, had seen a dim form about ten feet away and his impetuosity had brought forth the yell and then he knew that not a moment was to be lost. The “devil” breaking off his cry like the snapping of a twig, gave one look and fled. But his nemesis was close on his heels and as the toe of one of Tom’s snow-shoes came down on his heel, he pitched forward sprawling in the deep snow. Instantly Tom was upon him, and when the boys caught up to them all that they could see was a writhing mass of arms, snow-shoes and legs as the two rolled over and over in the snow. It was so dark they were unable to tell who was who and they could do nothing except stand by and watch, but they had little doubt as to the outcome. But as the minutes passed and so far as they were able to see neither had gained any advantage over the other, they began to fear that at last Tom had met his match.
“We’ll have to get into it,” Bob declared, as he stepped close to the struggling mass.
But at that moment the thrashing about ceased and one of the men lifted his head. But which one was it who was on top? Bob held his breath as he leaned forward.
“Now kape quiet or I’ll be after chocking the life out of yez,” and both boys gave a glad shout as they recognized Tom’s voice:
“Sure an’ he’s a tough nut all right,” the latter declared, as he, panting for breath, got to his feet.
The other man evidently having lost all desire for fighting, lay still in the snow.
“Up wid yez,” Tom ordered, as he seized him by the collar and slowly dragged him to his feet.
“Now ye dirty skunk what yer got ter say fer yerself?” he demanded, as he picked up his cap and beat it against his leg to knock off the snow.
The man made no reply and Tom, rapidly losing his patience, grabbed him by the arm and pulled him around.
“Ain’t ye got no tongue?” he demanded. “Ye sure was makin’ good use of it a minute ago,” he added; and then, as the man still remained silent, he again took hold of his arm. “All right, mebby the kitty’s got yer tongue. Now ye come along wid us an’ mind yer no funny business.”
But the man hung back. “Non, me no go,” he muttered.
“Now by the saints, but ye will go and mighty quick too, or I won’t lave enough o’ ye to make a good meal fer a wolf.”
But still the man refused to move. “Me go back camp. Me ver’ seek.”
“Sick is it?” the Irishman shouted, his patience now entirely gone. “Well, here’s sumpin to make yer sicker,” and he struck the man a heavy blow on the point of the chin.
He dropped to the snow like a log and lay still.
“Bad luck ter him,” Tom said, as he looked down at the fallen man. “Sure an’ I hated ter do it, but ’tis the only language they kin understand, so it is.”
A handful of snow rubbed in his face quickly brought him to, and with a groan he opened his eyes.
“Me go,” he muttered.
“Sure an’ it’s meself as knowed thot all the time,” Tom laughed, as he dragged the man to his feet.
Fortunately none of the snow-shoes had been broken in the fight and after waiting a few minutes for the man to recover his wind they started back. No word was spoken until they reached the clearing.
“Now take off yer snow-shoes,” Tom ordered, and as soon as the order was obeyed he led the way back to the bunk house.
Most of the men were awake, some of them sitting on the edge of their bunks, while others were gathered about the stoves talking excitedly.
“Here’s yer howling spook,” Tom shouted, as he pushed open the door and pulled the frightened man inside.
For an instant all was still as the men turned their heads to see who had spoken, then as they recognized the boss, a glad shout went up. After a moment Tom held up his hand and the shouting quickly died down.
“Now tell ’em you made thot yelling,” he ordered, turning to his captive. “Spake,” he thundered, as the man remained silent, “or I’ll be after giving ye another taste o’ this,” and he shook his huge fist in the man’s face.
A sight of that fist was all that was needed to loosen that man’s tongue.
“Me mak’ der noise,” he said, in a tone trembling with fear but loud enough for all to hear.
“Come on, we feex heem,” one Frenchman shouted, and a number sprang forward but Tom waved them back.
“No, byes, sure an’ he’s had enough, an’ besides he’s only a tool,” and, taking the man by the arm he quickly pushed him out the door and closed it behind him, after Bob and Jack had followed him.
“Now ye listen ter me,” he began, as soon as they reached the edge of the clearing where they had left their snow-shoes. “Go back ter yer camp an’ tell Big Ben thot if he tries iny more of his funny business we’ll be after trying some too an’ don’t yer fergit it.”
The Frenchman said nothing, but after fastening his snow-shoes slunk off through the woods and was almost immediately lost to sight.
“I guess that’s the last of the spook business,” Bob said thoughtfully, as they made their way back to the bunk house.
“Perhaps, but he’ll try something else. Big Ben doesn’t give up so easily,” Jack declared, and subsequent events proved that he was right.
The “ghost” having been laid, as Jack put it, the boys were glad the next morning to note that the men had fully recovered their spirits. Snatches of song interspersed with frequent shouts of laughter rang through the forest, as ax and saw bit into the great trees.
“They’re sure a happy lot when there’s nothing on their minds,” Jack declared, as he buried the blade of his ax in the trunk of a particularly large spruce.